The Heirs Of Reyne
by Yousef MZ
Summary: House Reyne of Castamere was destroyed twenty years ago. Mysterious events have happened in their past, and now the Reyne brothers must discover their truth, and their lineage. The rest is the story ! Now they're BACK ! Written in G.R.R.M style.
1. Prologue

_**PROLOGUE**_

* * *

Maester Akis sat thoughtfully in the Hall of Gold. He remembered this place's history very well, having lived through most of it and then some. Akis had come to Casterly Rock in service of the Lannisters when he was a young man, chained very recently. He recalled back all those events then, trying to distract himself from the fast approaching din outside the Hall doors.

The Rock was no ordinary castle, but the mightiest and most splendid of all the holdings in the entirety of the Westerlands. Its roots are ancient, founded back in the Dawn age by the Casterlys of old, and later ruled over by the Lannisters in the Age of Heroes. It has witnessed the Andalic invasions, the Dragon Conquests, and the War of the Usurper.

Casterly Rock sits atop a high hill, spreading deep under it through caverns and hidden chambers, dungeons, and was rich beyond imagining, the hill it sat on said to contain a gold mine. The Rock's defenses were robust in strength, its natural location giving it a higher standing, and the extremely tall and thick curtain walls that surrounded the main keep itself. One wall was at the bottom of the hill and the other, right around the top. But all these defenses could not aid the castle in its most dire moment.

Remembering came easy for Akis, but concentrating got harder as the noise outside grew even nearer. He had just been bound to the Rock back then. Lord Paramount Tytos Lannister was the Warden of the West, under the good king Jaehaerys the second Targaryen. Lord Tytos was a kindly fellow, treating his vassals well and fair, but he mostly kept to himself, preferring the company of his wife, and hunting. Tytos was not an authoritative figure like his son was. He lacked ambition and will to rule, making him seem unable and weak in the eyes of his bannermen, especially the Lords of the song, Tarbeck and Reyne.

The Tarbecks were an ancient house, alike and close in many ways to the Reynes. Maester Akis remembered the time when the news about Lord Reyne's marriage into the Tarbecks. The Reynes were the second richest house after the Lannisters themselves, but they were not contented with being second, nor were the Tarbecks. House Reynes seat was the huge castle of Castamere, but in the time of the rebellion.

The Reynes were also an ancient house, going back before the dragon conquests. Tarbecks were also powerful and rich, both houses had many a gold and silver mine between them. The Lords Paramount of the Westerlands were always firm in their rulership, curbing the power of their vassals and enforcing their hierarchical dominance. But the chance for rebellion came in the reign of the meek Lord Tytos, and they took it.

Lord Tytos was called the toothless lion, and not without reason. Tytos inherited the Rock after his father's sudden death, being only a teen back then, he was not interested as he should have been in the governance of the state. _Yes, he left his realm to the Councillors,_ Akis was one of the few council members who actually cared for the sake of the Westerlands, that's why he was spared.

In the reign of Lord Tytos, the Lannisters were in great decline. Their economy collapsing, their vassals mocking them, their armies demoralized. It all came back to Tytos and his poor choices, be it in investment or council-ship. Trade was dying, barely any ships unloaded in Lannisport.

It was Lord Tywin Lannister who restored the house to its precedent glory. Tywin was a man unlike his father in anyway but the hair color. He had sat seething at his father's many failures, being humiliated by the vassals of the treacherous houses and their Lords. Tywin ascended to the seat of the Rock when he was only twenty years, he had drive, and ambition fueled him to achieve his goals and pay his debts.

The corrupt council was hanged and the great mistakes of the father undone. It was his reign that saw the rise of Lannister power and ferocity. But still a threat remained, the now rebelling houses of Tarbeck and Reyne, backed by other smaller houses.

Open rebellion was declared when Lord Tytos passed away. Tywin himself took control of his forces, marshaled them and led them to a decisive victory against the Reynes. The Halls of Castamere were destroyed, and all of Reyne blood put to the sword. This resounding victory was called the clash of Lions, later the song was made about it. Maester Akis has now passed thirty years in service to house Lannister.

Many things had happened in the last twenty years alone. The Dragon kings have fallen, the stag was crowned, the North rebelled, the king murdered. King Tommen of Houses Baratheon and Lannister now sits on the Iron Throne, forged three hundred years ago by Aegon the Conqueror. Lord Tywin is also dead, the news arrived just a fortnight ago from the capital, killed by his own son. The Imp, Tyrion of house Lannister. Lord Kevan is now the Warden of the West and lord of Casterly Rock. May the Gods preserve and guide his rule.

* * *

It was late in the night when the messenger burst through the large oaken doors of the Gold Hall, filling it with the echoing noise of his footsteps on the smooth, shiny marble flooring. Lord Kevan sat on his throne, a sad and contemplating look on his face. _He has lost too much_.

Maester Akis knew. Kevan had lost two of his sons, the third on death's door. Now he has lost his brother too, his nephew was crippled and his house in disarray. Nonetheless, he had a duty to fulfill, so he turned his head attentively towards the hard breathing messenger who had just arrived.

"My Lord ! I bring news from across the Narrow Sea. The eunuch Varys has been confirmed and sighted in the free city of Pentos two nights ago. The murderous Imp might be with him, my Lord." Kevan stared at the messenger, expecting more from him, when none came he gave a sigh of boredom. "Cousin, you've done us a great service, thank our informers in Essos for their efforts, but we need more information.

"I NEED a confirmed location. No matter, bring me the warrants and orders that need the kings sign and I shall bring them with me on the morrow when I travel to King's Landing."

The messenger composed himself, bowed, and was off, already exiting the Gold Hall in haste. Lord Kevan looked at the Maester then said, "Akis, bring quill and ink quickly, I need you to write something for me." The Maester stood from his bench, bowed, then was off. He exited the Hall through a side door on the right.

The Maester walked briskly towards his chambers in the right wing of the large keep. Akis' chambers were under the hill, so he had to descend many stairs and hallways before he reached the door to the room. The Maester fumbled with his key chain, eventually finding the right one. In a swift move, the door was unlocked, the Maester stepped through the boundary of the room, fetched the required materials, then started back again.

In these cold nights, the under hill parts of the Rock were very warm, but the top was not. Winter has truly arrived, soon snows will begin to fall and the lower caverns will be locked off, that would be Akis' job. The Maester remembered when Lord Tywin's body had arrived a night ago. It was he who dressed and prepared the body to be buried in the graveyard with the rest of the Lannisters. The crossbow bolt that ended his life would have only damaged a younger fellow, but Lord Tywin was five and sixty. It was Lord Kevan himself who buried the body today, tears rolling down his red cheeks. Kevan was inspired by his brother, and loved him too.

If Lord Kevan were like Tywin then the Westerlands were in safe hands.

As the Maester reached the side door of the Gold hall, shouts of argument could be heard from there. Akis was accustomed to out of hand conversations, but this seemed different. Lord Kevan's voice was clearly distinguishable, but the other voice wasn't. It was gruff with a hint of over cockiness in it. The Maester didn't know who it was. _Some Western Lord most probably._ Akis knocked lightly on the door, waiting to be admitted into the Hall. "Come in, fast now."

Lord Kevan's voice was urgent, this business must be bothering him somehow. The Maester stepped into the Hall quietly, bowed to the Lord of the Westerlands, then took his seat beneath the throne silently. The unknown Lord, clearly dressed like one in flowing robes and red gilded armor, with a long crimson cape tumbling down his back. Two golden lion brooches held the cape to his broad, well muscled shoulders. "My Lord, I see that you are busy now, may I take my leave then ?"

Lord Kevan looked distastefully towards the Lord in gilded armor then said, "no, Steffard, I want you to witness this." Steffard bowed with a surprised look on his face. "As my Lord of Lannister wishes." He took a seat opposite the Maester gracefully, sliding his long cloak behind him so as to not sit on it. The Maester didn't feel warm towards this man, he has never seen or heard of him before. _Perhaps he's a Frey._ More and more of House Frey of the Crossings have been arriving lately at Casterly Rock, due to their many marriage ties with Lord Kevan and his sons.

Lord Kevan looked at the Maester before raising his voice and saying, "In the name of Tommen, first of his name, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, ..." The Maester was impressed by the authoritative and song voice of his Lord, nonetheless he wrote, his skilled, deft hands sliding along the paper gracefully. "I, Lord Kevan of House Lannister, decree, by the power that was given to me, that all lands and holdings in the region of Castamere be transferred to the ownership of Lord Steffard Lannister." The gilded Lord looked up astonished, do did the Maester. _He's a Lannister !_

A broad smile spread across Lord Steffard's face, many thoughts swirling in his mind.

"This business is concluded, I will retire for now, finish the letter, Maester, then send it by raven to the capital, i'll make sure the King signs it." The Maester nodded dutifully and set about finishing his job. Soon the Gold Hall was empty but for Lord Steffard, who had chosen to stay, and the already finishing Maester.

When the letter was finished, the Maester made to stand, but Lord Steffard cleared his throat and raised a hand, "wait, maester, I would like to discuss something with you before you take leave." Akis looked suspiciously at the young Lord, but honor had bound him to the service of this house, so he had no choice but to hear the man out. "Speak what you wish, my Lord." Steffard looked around the room, as if expecting to be overheard by the wall, the returned his gaze at the waiting Maester.

"Castamere was not what I had in mind, but it will do. The land is rich with ore and fertile too, but it comes with a problem I think our good Liege is not aware of."

"What might that be, my Lord ?" Steffard continued without care of the interruption, "the Reynes were all supposed to be dead, but I have received shocking news from Essos. It seems two more Reynes had survived the clash of Lions !" The Maester was beyond baffled, his speechlessness must have showed on his old face, for the gilded Lord gave a short cruel laugh, "do not look so astonished yet, Maester, the worst is yet to come."

The Maester couldn't contain his curiosity. _How could any of them be alive_. "Perhaps it is better if we speak more in private, my chambers perhaps, if you wish it of course my lord ?" The burly Lord gave a curt nod, and they were off towards the Maester's chambers. All the way down, Akis couldn't stop thinking about what Steffard had said just minutes ago. _It's impossible, all the bodies were left to rot on the walls for years, how is this happened ?_

Soon, they were in the snug Chambers, surrounded by dusty books, quills, scrolls, inkpots and potions. The Maester felt more in control when he was surrounded by his own stuff, "please continue, my lord." Steffard was observing the room with a cynical, it seemed he was no man of knowledge or learning. "The worst part, dear Maester, is that they know."

"They know of what my Lord ?" Curiosity was pushing him to madness, he had to know. "They know of their claim, Maester !" Akis just stared at Lord Steffard, dumbfounded. "What claim ?"


	2. Chapter 1 : REYNOLD

**_Reynold_**

* * *

"The Night is dark and full of terrors," declared the balding red priest. He stood behind a small brazier, alight with dancing flames. His blood red robes shimmering in the brazier's glow.

Reynold recalled this new servant of _Rh'llor's_ past. The priest had come from Lys, apparently crossing the Disputed Lands and the Broken Arm to reach here. He had claimed many adventures on his way here, but the truth was plain for all to see. The man was old, fat, dirty mouthed except in prayer and despised any followers of the faith of the Seven, like Reynold was.

Now he was hosting the Nightfires in place of the long gone Thoros of Myr, their former red priest at the fort. Agamos of Lys was his name, supposedly renown throughout the free cities for his magical healing abilities, a chosen of _Rh'llor_ is what the garrison men called him. He claimed to be able to bring back the dead just by a kiss.

The man was pale compared to his robes, sweat dripping from his many chins to land on the cold packed earth of the yard. _He has a strong voice though_ , that much Reynold admitted grudgingly about the despised priest. His voice rang throughout the yard, raised in words of queer high Valyrian, and when the others repeated after him, all the bastard accents of Essos resounded in the place.

Reynold never understood these queer eastern gods. There were to many of them, all different in some aspect. The Dothraki worshiped some Horse God, their neighbors the Lhazareen worshiped a Shepherd. Ghis the Harpy and the free cities _Rh'llor._

That didn't cover quarter of them though, the gods of the far east, Yi Ti and Asshai, where unknown to most men, including Reynold. The thoughts of Gods and prayers clouded his mind, he needed to be clearheaded tonight, for he had the watch.

The chair Reynold sat in was very uncomfortable, jagged edges dug into his bottom and back, and the base was covered with cloth not cushion. _It's better than standing._ The thought of the cold winds blasting his face made Reynold shiver. It was a very cold night, and very boring too. His companions on the watch were well enough people. Rowan was there, so was Burlus the Norvoshi, Salyn of Pentos and another unknown figure skulking alone on the battlements.

They had been assigned the east gate of the fort for tonight. The eastern side overlooked a thick forest, swirls of orange and red covered its upper canopy, but that was only seen by the light of day, at night, it was pitch black. The moon had disappeared, along with most of the stars in the sky.

Only the Ice Dragon remained shining in the north. Reynold's thick furs barely beat back the sting of the cold gales, his leather gloves only covered his palms and forefingers, the rest was bare for the cold to eat away.

Reynold had unbuckled his sword belt, which was now lying on his lap, to be more comfortable while sitting. He decided to slide out the longsword from it's simple leather scabbard, hoping to oil up the blade to remove the persistence of boredom on him. The sound of the blade coming out got the attention of his brother, Rowan. He approached Reynold on his chair, a grim smile spread on his face.

Rowan smiled too much, but his brother's smiles were always a welcome sight. "You're shivering, brother !" Reynold looked up from his sword, staring directly in the hazel eyes of his sweet brother, "obviously, the winds don't seem to relent, and my furs barely keep off the cold." The longsword slipped from Reynold's lap, falling on the cold stone ground with a loud clang.

"Burlus no like straight sword, Burlus no trust Westerosi !"bellowed Burlus the Norvoshi at Reynold. It was said among the men of the fort that Burlus used to be a Bearded Man in training before he ran away. The longaxe Burlus always slung on his back was evidence of that, being the weapon used by the Bearded Men. Also, Burlus was about six feet and a half, immensely muscled but very lightly armored, wearing only leather pants and a cross vest on his barrel chest.

"How come the cold ain't affecting you, Burlus ?" The large Norvoshi stared at Reynold quizzically, trying to understand what he said in the Common Tongue. "Burlus strong, no need Burlus for furs, Burlus need only longaxe !" The answer made Reynold laugh, along with Rowan. Then Salyn came from the battlements to join them, saying, "only Westerosi fear cold, real men live naked, like Salyn the great, you Rowam go take my place, now !"

Rowan made hastily towards the battlements of the wall, chuckling to himself all the way. Salyn never knew how to pronounce Rowan's name, giving many a conversation a comedic twist. Rowan wasn't one to take grudges, nor to get offended by something as trifling as this. It was one of his better qualities. Burlus slung his longaxe from its sheath on his back, holding the large thing with only one hand !

"Do you plan to cut me down with that, Burlus ?" said Reynold with a laugh. This Burlus understood easily, he liked the sound the words 'cut down' gave. "Me no kill brothers, Westerosi my brother." They were the closest thing to friends on this place. Reynold hoped they stay with him. All the other friends and companions he and his brother ever had in either left them, betrayed them, or died.

Rowan came back to them, puffing clouds of breath with every fast step. Reynold noticed the smile on his face was gone. "There are lights out there, in the forest, they were faint at first, thought it just a trick of my eyes, but they're coming closer with every minute, you better have a look yourselves !" The anxiety in Rowan's face was clear, even Burlus understood that.

They walked the short distance across the wall to the battlements. Reynold peered over the edge into the blinding darkness ahead. At first he saw nothing, then his eyes adjusted, and he saw the lights. Not so far off the walls, about ten of them, flickering into existence then disappearing under the cover of the forest. "I see them, but who are they ?"

The question was in all their minds, especially Reynold. "They could be passing travellers or merchants for all we know, we can't raise the alarm on false persumptions, the commander would have our hides !" The commander was a stern man. Once a slave fighter in the pits of Mereen, now the leader of a small garrison. He was a just man, but japes didn't come easy to him. He also really liked whipping.

Some nights when Reynold would be sleeping in his cot, he could hear the hissing sound of the Commander's whip, and the wet sound of flesh tearing. The thoughts sent a shudder through Reynold. He wasn't a squeamish man, but the thought of skin tearing and the sadistic laugh of the Commander was enough to scare even Burlus.

Reynold went back to the chair and picked up his longsword, sheathing it in the scabbard again. The night was getting colder, or was it the tension of the situation that froze Reynold's blood in it's tracks. The fort barely had visitor, situated on the southern border of the Qohor forest. Only bandits and wild beasts lived there. These lights could signal a friend or foe, _it could be a detachment from Qohor for all we know !_

"I'm not comfortable with this, Rowan, get the horn and sound the alarm. We should at least alert our fellows of what's happening, do it on my responsibility." Rowan nodded and went towards the underkeep, a small hollow in the wall the housed the horns and some old equipment unfit for the fort's armory. It also housed a secret escape route from the fort, something only Rowan knew of. _It was I who discovered it though._

Reynold had found the secret passage in another Qohorik fort, it seemed they all shared the same architectural plans. Reynold buckled on his sword belt and slung his grey fur cloak over his shoulders. His arms were feeling stiff from the cold and the night before's training. It was a hectic session, the Commander himself observed the men in training. Reynold's shield arm still throbbed where Burlus had smashed it with a blunted axe.

"These no friends, Salyn think they are bandits, come from the forest to attack us, but they get no easy fight here, right Bur..." Salyn was cut off with the whizzing sound of an arrow. Then the Pentoshi crumpled to the ground like a sack. Blood pooling around his pierced neck.

"SOUND THE ALARM, NOW !" Burlus ran off down the wall, shouting at the men in prayer to arm up and get ready. People were jostling around on the benches, some running to the armory, others, like Amorch the Slug, just shrugging off Burlus' calls and laughing at him. _He can die for all I care !_ The Slug was the Commander's pet, no one can harm him without facing the Commander, but he would torment the others and bully them, especially Reynold.

Rowan appeared across the wall, a brown war horn in hand. He blew in it with all the wind in his lungs, and the booming sound filled the night. Reynold turned back toward's the forest, and almost pissed himself. There were hundreds of torches, all running towards the walls. _Were in the seven hells did they all come from !_ The shock froze Reynold in the spot, until a fire arrow whizzed by his ears.

Fire caught his brown hair. Reynold's shock wore of that instant. He ducked under the battlements and batted off the fire on his head, luckily, his brown curls weren't damaged, severely. "Rowan, SOUND THE HORN AGAIN, THERE"S HUNDRED'S OF THEM !" His cry was drowned by the sound of whizzing fire arrows in the air, all passing overhead. There must have been hundreds of them, for the dark night was suddenly bright with fire.

The screams came a second later, Reynold made himself crawl across the cold ground to see what was happening in the yard. It was all chaos, fires were burning everywhere, the stables and barracks were alight with flame. Many men lay writhing on the dirt ground, a shroud of fire surrounding them. Reynold looked for his brother in the mess, his heart thumping with every passing second.

 _Where are you Rowan ?_ His brother was nowhere to be seen in the yard. Reynold looked everywhere, along the walls, near the brazier, next to the commander's tower, but his brother had disappeared. Then the gates caught fire.

The fort had two gates, the eastern one, were Reynold was, and the western one, were no one was. Both with being licked by flames, each passing minute, they make a crackling sound. _If the gates crumble, we're all crow food !_ Reynold rose to a low crouch, making his body covered by the stone battlements but still able to move. He made his was slowly towards the stairs, each step bringing closer to the edge of hell, until finally he was down in the burning yard.

"BURLUS !" The Norvoshi was near the armory, longaxe slung in his thick arms. He came towards Reynold, shouting at him. The words were drowned with the whizzing of another volley of fire arrows. The sky light up for a second before returning to its original gloom again. "What Westerosi want ? Burlus ready to cut down !" Reynold couldn't keep the smile from his face. _I have to focus, for Rowan's sake !_

Reynold unsheathed his longsword. The sweet ringing of steel filled the air around them. "THEY'RE BURNING DOWN THE GATES, GET MEN AND HOLD THE WESTERN GATE, I'LL COVER THE EAST." He didn't know why he was shouting, Burlus was right infront of him. But the Norvoshi didn't mind, he ran off towards a group of disarrayed men, shouting in his thick voice.

Another crack sounded from the gate, this louder than the ones before, and closer. It had come from the eastern gate, right behind him. Reynold swirled round and stared at the cracks in the gate, and the faces stared back at him.

All wore full helms the shape of ram's heads. All were black as night.

Thankfully, the gate hadn't fallen yet, just a piece fell off relieving the horror beyond. Reynold didn't know what the bull head helms stood for, non of the bandit clans in the forest could afford such things. _None of them have this many men !_ This attacking force must be some raiding mercenaries or another invading city state. The purpose of these men was clear enough, Reynold could see the malice on their eyes even through the helms.

"Scary right ?" Reynold spun round and was face to face with his brother. "Oh, thank the gods, Rowan, were the fu... , have you been ?" His brother sniggered at that. "It's not bloody funny Rowan, I was shit scared about you !"

"Calm down, brother, it's not like i'm dead or anything, anyways, how are we going to beat those ?" He pointed at the bulls behind the gates. Reynold knew fighting would be hopeless, it would only delay the inevitable. "With odds like these, there's no chance of victory. Listen Rowan, I want you to go through the secret passage on the horn room, you can escape and warn the other forts, or even bring help. We can hold them."

He told the lie, trying to sound as convincing as possible, but Rowan could always know if you're telling the truth through the face. "You're a horrible liar, brother. I can fight, better than you sometimes ! Let me stay by your side, please !" Reynold put on a stern face, "You will go, Rowan, I will not risk your life. Your the last of our blood after me. No more arguing, now HURRY !"

They had divvied up their forces. The Commander had place Reynold with seven others on the eastern gate, another eight on the western, archers on the walls, and the rest in the middle. The Commander himself stood beside Reynold, a grim look on his scarred face. "You better no run, Westerosi, or I put you on rack, and me whip crack !" His voice was gruff and cruel, but a hint of self pity lied in there too. _He knows we can't hold, its clear on his hideous face !_

All stood in silents, hearts beating as one. The suspense and tension were palpable, men were sweating, pissing themselves, or straight up shaking. But not Reynold, he has face death too many times to be scared of it. His only motivation was the safety of his brother, at least he hoped so. "Were your Westerosi Volanquar, He run ?"

Burlus was a straightforward fellow, skipping directly to the important part of speech. "My brother is up on the walls with the archers," lied Reynold. If no one knows his brother deserted, his life would be all the safer. "Burlus hate puny archers, they coward, they no strong, like Burlus !" Reynold turned at that, "we'll see how strong you are in a few moments. "

The heart stopping crack of the western gate falling filled the night air, then came the din of battle, and the clang of steel. "No one move, HOLD" and they did. The noise from the west grew louder and more intense, punctuated by the frequent shouts or cries of anguish. Reynold stole a glace back, and to his relief found that their meager line was holding, although barely. Then the eastern wall fell.

"Men, KILL THEM ALL !" The Commander was the first to charge at the oncoming bulls, he was cruel but brave. "YEAAAARHH !" came the battle cries of his fellows, as they all charged after their commander. _This is suicide, but if it gives Rowan more time, I'll do it gladly !_ Reynold charged, Burlus right beside his, the huge longaxe raised above his head, ready to cut down anyone in his path.

All around Reynold there was fighting. It all made no sense. Men were crossing swords, archers loosing arrows, fires burning brightly, and the cold hitting all. Reynold blocked a bull's uppercut with his longsword. The attacker was using a mace in one hand, and a shield in the other. The Bull came again, mace swinging violently towards Reynold's exposed head. He ducked, avoiding death by mere inches.

They danced along, all the surrounding chaos forgotten. _Only the enemy exists !_ Again and again the mace came swinging, and again Reynold dodged it. The Bull raised his shield and advanced slowly, eyeing Reynold's longsword with caution. Then Reynold charged. _Always see your enemy's eyes, for they never lie !_ The Bull easily blocked the swing with his broad shield, but before he could follow up with an attack, Reynold spun round.

In an instant, The Bull's exposed back faced him. He wasted no time, driving his longsword through the enemy's leather armored back. The Bull gave a shudder before collapsing on the ground, blood pooling from his back. Reynold bent and picked up the shield. _Better safe than sorry._

All around him the battle had escalated. There was a pool of Bulls on the western side, barely held by the four remaining men. The east was a mess, Burlus was driving his axe into someone's shoulder, the Commander was spinning like a cyclone, his arakh a deadly ray surrounding him. Another Bull came at Reynold, this one with a scimitar in hand.

They danced, then Reynold ducked and swung at the Bull's legs. His scream filled the air, but Reynold silenced him with a sword through the chest.

A sudden burst of pain erupted from Reynold's back. His whole body went numb, then he was on the ground, all the wind had escaped his body.

The man standing atop him was no man, but an aurochs. He was taller and more muscled than Burlus, naked but for his Bull helm and fur pants. In his tree trunks of arms, the largest warhammer Reynold ever saw. The thing was huge, studded at both ends. _It was meant to crush, not cut !_ The monstrosity faced Reynold, then raised his huge hammer.

Blood spurted everywhere, blinding Reynold. Every thing grew dim, his hearing, breathing, seeing all closed up. _At least Rowan survived, I lived too long anyways !_

Before he fell out of this world, he saw Burlus. _Is he my last thought !_ Then the black took him.

* * *

A/N : _Sorry for the wait, had some circumstances. As you might have noticed, the chapter is written in G.R.R.M style, were the character in focus us the chapter title. There is also some swearing, but I try to suppress it as much as possible. Feel free to let me know what you think, I've been working on the battle for a long time, so yeah, not too harshly please. :)_


	3. (part of) Chapter 2 : ROWAN

**Rowan**

The life of a mercenary was an interesting one. For the past six years, Rowan had served alongside his brother in the Fort. He practically grew up there, all his defining moments happened in the Fort. Now the Fort was no more.

Rowan tried to recall who owned the Fort, but could not. The names of the Myrish lords and ladies were difficult to recall with a clear head, so how could he ever recall them now when his head feels like a cracked egg.

Reynold was gone.

The sad truth sunk in like a Dothraki Scimitar. Rowan started to grow aware of his surroundings again, the pain in his heart pushed out the fogginess and sharpened his thoughts. He could smell smoke, acrid and potent and nearby. The Fort was still burning.

Rowan opened his eyes to a grey world. Burned out tree stumps surrounded him, their trunks still flaky and charred from the heat of the fire that had consumed them. The smell was not of the burning Fort but of the forest. Alone in a dead place, Rowan looked around, trying to find any signs of life, but none revealed themselves. The ground on which he had laid was marked by his figure, he must have been here for a long time to make such a mark on hard ground.

Instinctively, Rowan's hand went to his waist, groping for the reassuring hilt of his sword, but is was not there. He looked down to find himself stripped to the loincloth. _How did I not feel my own nakedness? I am losing my senses!_ Rowan started walking into the charred forest, barefoot and vulnerable as a newborn infant.

A few steps in and he stumbled on his own feet and fell. _How embarrassing, and I thought myself an aspiring Braavo!_ Picking himself up again, Rowan trudged along on the cracked, hard ground of the forest. He leaned on the tree stumps every now and then when the nausea was unbearable. Eventually, he could no longer walk, his legs felt like jelly underneath him, with no strength to hold up his emaciated frame.

 _How did it come to this?_ Rowan tried to recall the sequence of events that led to him being here in the middle of an unknown and recently charred forest, weak and naked. He could not. The last thing that came to his mind was rushing down into the Fort's eastern wall, into the ammunitions cellar. He remembered moving some crates in a rush as the screams and grunts of battle bellowed above him. He remembered opening the hidden trapdoor and crawling first under hard stone, then under soft, unstable earth. Each move made the sounds hollower. Each move made him further from his brother. Each move brought tears to his eyes.

 _Then what?!_ Rowan put his fingers on his forehead while he rested his back on a tree stump. _Focus! Remember!_ But he could not.

Night came and the black owls started their morbid hooting song. _So I am still in Myr. The owls only live here._ A cold eastern breeze blew over him, causing him to shiver and tremble violently. _I will die of exposure. Rowan Reyne, the last of the great house of Reyne, killed by the damn cold!_ He had to protect himself, he had to live. Maybe the hope that Reynold is still alive is minute, but it exists and Rowan must hold onto it until his last breath.

Rowan stood up again and began walking. The movement will stave off some of the cold, but if that eastern wind starts blowing constantly, then no amount of running will ever stave off the cold. He had to find shelter and clothing. Someone must be living in these forests. The Myrish woodcutters had their huts in the forest, maybe he could find one and beg for hospitality.

The prospect of warm broth and a fire pushed him on, despite the weakness of his legs and the biting cold. Step after step after step, Rowan was walking towards his destiny. He stumbled and fell several times, he cried out in pain and desperation, but he never gave up. _My claws are long and sharp as yours, as long and sharp as yours!_ He thought to himself as he struggled on. He will survive, he will find Reynold or avenge him, there was no other choice.

Finally, near the end of the night, a faint light revealed itself in the distance at the base of some heavily wooded hills. _I must be near Lorath, these hills form a natural border between the two Free Cities._ The light renewed his hope and gave him energy. He walked, and every time the wind would blow, he would tremble like an old man sneezing. As he moved, Rowan noticed that the trees were leafy again and no longer burned out stumps. He had left the dead land behind him and was walking towards the living.

The hut was now only several feet away, but Rowan had reached the end of his powers. He collapsed on the soft, grassy ground, leaving his destiny in the hands of the gods.

 **Maester Akis**

The ruins of the old castle had not changed much in the past two decades. Maester Akis noticed much more ivy on the cracked stone walls, more pieces had fallen onto the bare ground in front of the castle. The holes that Lord Tywin's trebuchets had left seem to have become enlarged. But the smell was the same. It was not the smell of death, no, Lord Tywin had all the bodies and the blood cleaned out after he was done demonstrating with them. It was the smell of despair, of broken hopes and shattered dreams.

"Castamere, look at how crappy this place is. No wonder it was given to someone as low as Rolph Spicer." Lord Steffard sneered distastefully. "Time to start cleaning up. We need this place up and running before the next war breaks out!"

 _This is going to be a long night,_ thought the Maester.

* * *

 **This is a really short chapter (by my standards), but I am currently doing AS Levels and have absolutely no time to update this. Maybe in December after my mocks.**

 **Sorry :(**


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